Strictly Taboo(103)

“Who’s a farmhand? And Mr. Roosevelt, I thought that I was quite clear when we spoke on the dance floor? Miss. Grace here has declined your company.” Art offered Grace a cup of punch and raised his own cup to Everett with a nod.

“We were just discussing your occupation, Art.” Everett said. Smirking, he looked Art up and down.

“Mr. Roosevelt, while I may have had my humble beginnings as a farmhand, my days of muckin’ stalls are long behind me. Now, if you will excuse us.” Art took a sip from his cup and watched Everett expectantly until he huffed loudly and slunk away. Grace couldn't help but smile.

“He certainly doesn't seem to appreciate you very much.” She said before sipping her fruit punch. This time it was Art who smirked.

“He’d appreciate me even less if he knew who I was.”





Chapter 4



Grace tucked a stray strand of her dark curls behind her ear.

“What do you mean, if he knew who you were?” She asked Art. He gave her a wink.

“That's something to discuss another time.” He said. Grace eyed him, she hated secrets.

“Please?” She asked, giving him her best puppy dog eyes. Art shook his head with a smile.

“Come with me…” He said, jerking his head to the double doors of the barn and offering her his hand. She didn't hesitate to take it, her curiosity always getting the better of her.

“Where are we going?” She asked, quickly setting her cup on the edge of the drinks table as they passed it.

“You’ll see.” He said, leading her out of the barn and in to the warm evening air. With her hand in his, Art led Grace around to the back of the barn. A stack of hay bales that should have been inside the barn stood out back, stacked like steps against the back wall of the barn. Art lifted Grace’s hand, pushing her to step up on to the hay bales. Grace took wobbling steps, Art following her all the way until they reached the top bales. “Okay, now you can sit down.” He said. Grace frowned as she brushed the back of her skirt and sat down.

“I don't understand?” She said. “What are we doing out here?” Art sat beside her and stretched out his arm, pointing in to the distance.

“Do you see that?” He pointed to the tall metal oil derrick.

“Uh huh…” Grace stared at it. She had no idea what it did exactly, but she knew that it had something to do with oil and big money.

“Do you know what it is?” Art asked, plucking a strand of straw from one of the hay bales and slipping it in to his mouth.

“Well, it's an oil…thingamagig…” Grace said, trying her hardest to sound as though the word she was looking for was just out of reach. Art laughed.

“It is an oil thingamagig. And who do you suppose owns that oil thingamagig?” He asked.

“You?” Grace said a little doubtfully. Art shook his head.

“No, ma’am, not me. That there oil derrick is owned by one Mr. Everett D. Roosevelt.”

“Oh…” Grace wasn't too sure why Art was pointing it out at all then.

“That there oil derrick owned by Mr. Everett D. Roosevelt sits on quite a large package of land.” Art paused as he shifted the piece of hay in his mouth from one side to the other. “That package of land went up for sale around five years ago. Long before anyone knew what lay underneath it. Well around five years ago, one particular farm hand inherited quite a sum of money when his daddy passed away. And this farm hand decided to invest in a piece of local land with hopes of buildin’ his own ranch someday.” Art paused again as Grace’s eyes grew wide.

“No…” She said in disbelief. Art grinned.

“Well, far as that Mr. Roosevelt knows he’s investin’ in oil drillin’ on a piece of land owned by AJM corporation. His money goes right through the corporation and I ain't never had to deal with him myself.” He said. Grace covered her gaping mouth with her hand.

“Do you suppose he will ever find out it’s you?” She asked, still holding her hand in front of her face. Art shrugged.

“Well, I don't suppose it rightly matters now. He already set up his operation and I don't suspect any man could walk away from a gusher like that anyhow.” He nodded at the tall metal structure off in the distance. Grace dropped her hand and her eyes lit up in the brilliant moonlight.

“Oh we should tell him!” She said. Art laughed quite wholeheartedly as he shook his head.

“Naw, I don't see no point in makin’ trouble.” He said. Grace sighed.

“Oh but he can be such a nasty man! It sure would be nice to see him brought down a peg or two.” She said, turning her gaze to Art. “Are you sure?”